


Tea Was Made for Two

by Fanfic_For_The_Void



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff, Hugs, Kukalaka - Freeform, Loneliness, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Tea, Touch-Starved, tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_For_The_Void/pseuds/Fanfic_For_The_Void
Summary: What do you do after a long day? Settle in with a cup of tea of course. Unfortunately, its warmth is not enough to stave off those pesky emotion things Julian has today.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 21
Kudos: 75





	Tea Was Made for Two

**Author's Note:**

> If you're touch starved and you know it drink some tea *clap clap*

Julian Bashir’s couch had never felt so comfortable. Sighing, he sank into its bland grey-blue cushions with all the languorous luxury of some ancient Earth prince. A punishing double shift at the infirmary, followed by a game of racquetball with Miles he couldn’t put off any longer had taken their toll on him. Even his augmented muscles ached. There was only one solution to a day like this.

“Computer, one cup of Tarkalean tea, extra sweet.”

The replicator beeped happily, steaming mug materializing. Julian wrinkled his nose, contemplating the infinite couple metres between him and his beverage. He glared at the cup, willing it to levitate itself towards him. When that failed, Julian groaned, and hauled himself up off the couch. It was somehow worse than every second he had spent standing during his shift. 

Drink in hand, he resisted the urge to collapse back onto the sofa. Instead, he sat carefully, mindful of the sloshing liquid.

Balancing the still too hot cup on his knee, Julian inhaled the fragrant steam. The sweet water vapour curled around his face like a caress. It wasn’t.

Curling a palm over the top of his mug, Julian absorbed the rising heat, only pulling away when it built to the edge of a burn. He pressed his warm hand to his cheek. It still felt like his own.

Julian sighed, rolling his neck.

“Computer, dim lights by fifty percent.”

The day’s tension and energy were bleeding out of him and into the tea he held. The puppet strings were severed, and now he sat alone. Cupping his mug, Julian closed his eyes. It was warm, familiar, and not enough.

Bashir looked around his quarters. Today they felt empty, and the void of space felt too large. His thoughts were creeping back in, sliding around the exhaustion. It was nearly 2200 hours. The replimat would be closed and dark, and the holosuites would all be booked for the night. 

There was a time when a night like this would have been an opportunity. He would have put himself back together, then headed out bravely to pick up someone interesting at Quark’s. Without his noticing, those times had slipped away. They were on the brink of a war, the Dominion closing in every day. Such frivolities seemed doomed for failure.

Julian placed his tea on the side table and slipped off the couch, padding over to the shelf by his bed. He pulled the ragged brown bear that sat there close to his chest. 

“Oh Kukalaka, what would I do without you?”

Returning to the couch, Julian curled himself around his oldest friend, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy forehead. A couple savoured sips of tea later, nothing had changed. As miraculous as the drink was, it couldn’t cure every ailment of the heart.

Julian mashed a weary hand into his face, rubbing at his eye. His heart ached. Oh, how he was lonely. His tea mocked him, a poor simulation of another’s warmth as he stared at its reflective surface. Like everything else, it was sweeter when shared. There was only one individual on the station who came to mind.

“Bashir to Garak.”

Silence. His lunchtime companion was busy, or asleep. Of course.

“Yes, doctor?” Garak’s answering tones were muzzy, with so much less of the precision that Julian had grown accustomed to. 

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, did I wake you? Please ignore me. Go back to sleep,” Julian said, wincing.

“I had only just gone to bed, you didn’t wake me,” Garak replied. If it was a lie, it was a polite one, and Julian was grateful. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Will you…” Bashir bit his lip. “Will you have a cup of tea with me?”

“I do believe the replimat is closed at the moment.”

“In my quarters?” Julian closed his eyes, half regretting his boldness. “I understand that it’s late, but… Please.” He couldn’t bear another moment alone. A pause.

“Allow me a couple minutes to dress.”

Julian let out a breath. “Thank you.”

The next five minutes passed quickly as Julian tidied, electrified and suddenly nervous. His thoughts tangled more and more. What would he tell Garak? Did he have to tell Garak anything? Was Garak annoyed with him? Would seeing Garak make him feel any better? Oh, forget it all. His friend was coming to see him, and that was perfect.

A door chime put Julian out of his misery as he straightened the couch cushions a third time. He sprang up and strode over to the door.

“Come in.”

The doors swished open, revealing Garak, standing with clasped hands. For someone who was (presumably) in bed only a couple minutes ago, he was unfairly well put-together. His hair was in its usual coif, and he wore a crisp, forest green tunic. Not a wrinkle to be seen, or a lock out of place. Julian idly wondered if that was his hair’s natural state, or if it was styled that way. Before he could contemplate the nature of Cardassian keratin too deeply, he remembered his duties as host.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” Julian said with an inviting gesture to the couch. “Computer, red leaf tea,” he called to the room, heading towards the replicator.

“Might I ask what the reason for this deviation from our standard lunch meeting is?” Garak asked as Julian passed him his mug.

Julian sat heavily on the couch beside him. “I needed someone to drink my tea with,” he replied, wishing that he could convey all he felt with that simple sentence. 

“My dear doctor, surely that can’t be it.”

“No, Garak, it is,” Julian sighed. “I’m really quite lonely,” he said with a weak smile, trying not to sound too pathetic.

“Oh, my dear. You’re not alone,” Garak murmured, eyes kind in the low lighting.

“I know. You’re here,” Julian said, a real smile tugging at his lips.

“You have any of a dozen friends to drink your tea with. I can’t see why you would ever need to be alone if you did not wish to be,” Garak intoned, sipping at his beverage.

Julian huffed, what could have been a laugh. “I think you overestimate how many people tolerate me on a day to day basis. It’s all beside the point.” He paused for a moment, setting his mug on the end table. When he looked up, Julian’s breath caught in his throat. Garak was studying him with a warm intensity, blue eyes piercing him. 

He couldn’t look away. “I needed  _ you _ .” 

The hushed words tore out of him, and Julian was sure Garak could see through the hole they left, straight to his heart.

Those blue eyes widened. 

“Oh.” 

Garak put down his tea.

“I do, Garak. I need you,” Julian repeated, voice unwavering. He had never acknowledged this out loud, or even to himself. It was true though. He and Garak had been through so much together, and woven through it all were their weekly lunches. Julian had grown to need him, the same as food or water. He was brilliant and witty, vicious and dashing, always keeping Julian on his toes. Garak challenged him, and surprised him, and at the heart of it, was the truest of friends, despite all his lies.

“Why?”

What could he say? What words would encompass the enormity of the feelings he had uncovered amidst his loneliness? Julian looked Garak in the eyes, willing him to understand what he couldn’t voice.

“Because…”

He floundered helplessly, each possible sentence that flitted through his mind more wordy and less comprehensible than the last. 

Words failed him.

Instead, Julian launched himself at Garak, pressing into his chest and crushing him in a desperate embrace. He buried his face in his shoulder, confessing all that he could with his touch.

“Julian,” Garak breathed, pulling him in closer, closer. His own name, said so softly, made Julian weak. He melted into the man, soothed by the arms that encircled him and the solid body he snuggled into. 

“Thank you for having tea with me,” he mumbled into the thick fabric of Garak’s tunic.

“Mmm,” Garak hummed, halfway to a chuckle. The vibration ran through Julian’s bones, and he grinned. His loneliness had evaporated completely. He was sure there were a dozen miscommunications bound to happen, but for now, all that mattered was this. The words would come later, perhaps after a couple sips of tea.


End file.
